


Blood and Water

by CPFics



Series: The Muskequeers [5]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, Genderfluid Character, Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CPFics/pseuds/CPFics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The Blood of the Covenant is thicker than the Water of the Womb</i>
</p><p>Athos tries to come out to their uber-posh, Tory-voting, money-is-a-perfectly-good-substitute-for-love parents. It goes ... well, you can imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Water

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I have nothing against Tory voters tbh our whole political system's a shambles. If you're reading this you're probably not the kind of Tory voter I was talking about. You know the ones I mean.

“I feel like… I feel like I _have_ to tell them. Because they’re my parents, so they should know.”

It was lunch time. Athos was slouching in a chair in Treville’s office, picking their fingernails, while Treville was sitting at his desk, eating his pasta salad out of a tupperware box with a plastic fork. He chewed and swallowed before he replied.

“You don’t _have_ to tell anyone, Athos, if you don’t want to. You don’t owe them anything. God knows they’ve done enough to justify you not confiding in them. Remember your comfort and safety always comes first,” he said. Athos sighed.

“It’s just… it’s weird, you know? I feel like everyone knows except them. I used to hate that my parents knew me least of anyone and now I’m contributing to that,” they said. Treville took a few more mouthfuls of food while he thought, then shrugged.

“I don’t know what else to suggest, Athos, really,” he said. “In the end, you just have to do what’s going to make you feel more comfortable. If you tell them, and it all goes tits up, is that going to be manageable? It’s not like you’re close at the moment, so… what you need to decide is, how bad would it be if you were to lose that last bit of contact? Are you ready for that? Will you be able to deal with that?”

Athos sighed, leaning forward and running their hands down over their face. They looked at their watch and stood up.

“I have a lecture to get to. Thanks for your help.”

Treville nodded as they left.

\--

“You’re quiet,” said Porthos as he sat down on the sofa next to Athos that evening.

“I’ve invited my parents for dinner tomorrow evening,” Athos said. “They need to know.”

Porthos looked surprised, but nodded. He slung an arm around Athos’ shoulders, pulling them closer to him, and placed a kiss on the crown of their head.

“You want us to go too?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. No. Maybe, like, a few tables away or something.”

“OK,”

They sat in silence for a while. Athos slid their hand up Porthos’ chest, coming to rest over his heart, feeling comforted by the steady beating of it, and the rhythmic rise and fall of Porthos’ ribcage as he breathed.

“I’m scared, Porthos,” they said, looking up into his eyes. Porthos sighed sympathetically and pulled them closer.

“It’s OK,” he said. “You have us. Whatever happens, you’ll always have us.”

They were still there when Aramis arrived home a little later. Ne looked between them, hoping for an explanation of the low mood, but Athos just held out a hand to them, not speaking. Ne accepted it, curling up across both their laps, with nir head resting on Athos’ chest, content knowing that one of them would tell nem when they were ready.

\--

Athos could feel the nerves churning in their stomach as they walked to the restaurant with Porthos and Aramis. They’d dressed up in a smart shirt, trousers, and jacket, while Porthos and Aramis were more casual in jeans and t-shirts. Aramis had originally planned to wear a skirt, but Athos had panicked about their parents’ reaction, so just this once, for them, ne’d got changed.

Suddenly Athos caught a glimpse of their parents through the restaurant window. They grabbed a fistful of Porthos’ shirt, pulling him aside and burying their face in his chest.

“I can’t do this,” they said. “I can’t.”

Porthos folded his arms around them and Aramis came over to place a comforting hand on their shoulder.

“Ssh, it’s OK. You don’t have to. We can go home, you can tell them something came up,” said Porthos, but Athos shook their head, looking up at Porthos with shining eyes.

“I can’t,”

“Well, we can’t stay out here all night, so it’s one or the other,” said Porthos, aiming for levity. Athos looked torn.

“We’ll be right there,” said Aramis, taking hold of the one of Athos’ hands that wasn’t clinging to Porthos’ shirt and raising it to nir lips. “You’ll be able to see us the whole time.”

Athos closed their eyes, resting their forehead against Porthos’ chest and taking a few steadying breaths. At last, they nodded and pulled back. Porthos smiled and place a quick kiss on their temple. For a moment, Athos thought their nerves would bubble over and felt tears sting their eyes again, but they pushed them back, and led Porthos and Aramis into the restaurant.

They watched Porthos and Aramis finding a table out of the corner of their eye as they went over to their parents. Their parents both stood up as Athos approached.

“Mother, Father,” they said, kissing their mother once on each cheek and shaking their father’s hand. “I’m glad you could come.”

“It was kind of you to invite us,” said Mrs. de la Fère as they took their seats. Athos slung their jacket over the back of the empty seat next to them. “How is your degree going?”

“Good,” said Athos nodding. They sighed with relief when a waitress came over to take their orders.

“I don’t know what you’re going to do with a Classics degree though,” said Mr. de la Fère, once she’d gone. “I’d rather see my son doing something useful with his time.”

Athos looked down at the table for a moment. This was going well. They glanced over to Porthos and Aramis, who were leaning slightly towards each other over the table, deep in conversation. Aramis caught their eye and smiled encouragingly.

“Um, well, as it happens there was something I wanted to talk to you about…” they said, taking a deep breath and pressing on before either of their parents could interrupt. “Because I’m not your _son_.”

“What an earth do you mean?” said Mrs. de la Fère, suppressing a snort.

“I mean I’m not a boy. I don’t identify as a boy or a girl or anything. I’m agender.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have sent him to that liberal secondary school,” said Mrs. de la Fère. “I bet this is their fault.”

Athos frowned, feeling irritation pumping through them at their mother’s suggestion that this was anyone’s _fault_ , that they’d been convinced of this, that it was a _problem_. In their peripheral vision, they were aware that Porthos and Aramis had stopped talking and were sitting stiffly, watching them. They forced the irritation down.

“It’s nobody’s fault, mother. It’s just who I am.”

They glanced back at Aramis and Porthos, who had relaxed back into their seats and were beginning to strike up a conversation again. Their mother followed their gaze. 

“Who are those boys?” she asked. “Do you know them?”

“Aramis isn’t a boy,” said Athos, out of habit, then: “They’re my housemates.”

“Are they… _together_?” their father asked, suspiciously. “They look like they are.”

Athos sighed, taking small comfort from the fact that at least their response would take the attention away from their friends, who were beginning to look a little uncomfortable.

“Yes. We all are.”

Mr. and Mrs. de la Fère’s faces snapped back to Athos.

“You’re… a _homosexual_?” Mrs. de la Fère said, lowering her voice and looking hurriedly around her.

“No, I’m grey-asexual, grey-romantic, but I am attracted to people other than women, yes.” Athos was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. They were fairly sure the fight-or-flight response was kicking in in their brain, and flight was very much the preferable option.

“All these new words people are flinging around these days, does anybody even know what they mean?” their father said, at the same time as their mother asked gently,

“Have you thought about _seeing_ anyone about this, dear? Perhaps you should take a little time out…”

Athos could feel the anxiety rising in their chest. Suddenly the restaurant felt very hot, very crowded and very loud. _Your parents will never understand_ , a voice was screaming in their head, _they’ll never accept you, they’ll never support you, they’ll never love you_.

“You know what?” they said, getting unsteadily to their feet and plucking their jacket off the back of the chair. “I think maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

They stumbled out of the restaurant, gulping in the chill night air. 

“Athos?” Aramis voice was alarmed and close to their ear, and they turned toward it, burying their face in nir shirt as ne enveloped them in nir arms. Porthos arrived just in time, because their legs went out from under them and Aramis staggered under their weight. Porthos wrapped his arms carefully around Athos and took their weight from Aramis.

“Breathe, Athos,” he said, and Athos wondered if they’d stopped. They were vaguely aware of tears running down their cheeks. They took a deep, shuddering breath in, and Porthos relaxed a little. “That’s it. Well done.”

“Let’s go home,” said Aramis, gently prying Athos hands free from where they were clinging to nir shirt as if their life depended on it. Athos nodded, and a second later Porthos had knocked their legs out from under them, scooping them up into his arms.

Athos buried their face in Porthos’ neck, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and holding the other out to Aramis, who gladly took it. They focused on breathing, Porthos’ scent filling their nostrils with every breath in, but from time to time the memory of what had just happened came flooding back to them, overwhelming them with helplessness and rejection.

When they got back to the house, Porthos gently deposited on the sofa.

“No, no, no,” Athos insisted as he tried to pull away, twisting their fingers into his shirt.

“Hey. Hey, it’s OK,” said Porthos, kneeling down in front of them and putting his arms back around them. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He caught Aramis’ eye over Athos shoulder and mouthed, _Treville,_ at nem. Aramis nodded and grabbed nir phone. Ne returned a few minutes later and sat down next to Athos, laying nir head on their shoulder and rubbing gentle patterns into their back with the palm of nir hand.

Treville, when he arrived, let himself in.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as soon as he found them all in the living room. “What’s happened?”

“Athos tried to come out to their parents,” Aramis told him. “And it didn’t go well.”

Treville nodded.

“Have any of you eaten?”

Aramis shook nir head, and Treville nodded again. He put a hand on Athos’ shoulder and crouched down next to Porthos.

“Athos?” he said gently. “I’m going to need you to let go of Porthos so that he and Aramis can go and make you all some dinner. Can you do that for me?”

For a moment it seemed as though Athos wouldn’t respond, though Aramis felt their back rise and fall as they took a deep breath. Then, slowly, they began to loosen their grip on Porthos, until Treville was able to very carefully set them back against the back of the sofa. Porthos gave Athos’ knee a quick squeeze, and Aramis their hand, before they both went to the kitchen to find something to cook.

Treville sat down next to Athos on the sofa, putting his arm around their shoulders and letting them lean into him.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” he asked after a moment. Athos shook their head. “OK.”

They stayed there, Treville rubbing Athos’ shoulder with his thumb, the silence only broken by Athos occasionally sniffing or raising their hand to wipe away tears.

“Tea’s up!” Porthos called from the kitchen at last. Treville helped Athos to their feet and guided them to the kitchen. “Do you want any, sir?”

“No, thank you, Porthos,” Treville said, letting Athos sit themself into the chair Aramis had pulled out for them. Porthos nodded and set three bowls of pasta and three forks down on the table. Treville settled himself against the worktop at the end of the table.

Porthos and Aramis, both starving, set about their dinners like wolves, but Athos sat and stared at theirs, poking at it with their fork.

“Please eat something, Athos,” said Treville, watching them. Porthos and Aramis looked up worriedly. Athos felt the lump in their throat double in size.

“I wish you were my family,” they croaked quietly. “Instead of… rather than…”

Treville came over to them, pulling out the spare chair and sitting down in it, next to Athos. He took Athos’ hands in his.

“We _are_ your family, Athos,” he said. “And we will _always_ be here for you, no matter what.”

Athos looked up at Treville and, seeing nothing but sincerity in his face, turned to Aramis and Porthos. They both nodded in agreement, and Athos all of a sudden let out a breath they didn’t even realise they’d been holding. They smiled tearily, dropping their head forward onto Treville’s shoulder, and he pulled them into a tight hug, which they gladly returned.


End file.
